Scary Movies and Ahoges
by Optimistically-Hopeless
Summary: America and England watch a scary movie. Upon America freaking out, England discovers a very interesting trait about Nantucket. What will he do with this new discovery? UKUS; Rated M for language and smexy times. :D


So… this is my first M-rated fan fiction that's… er… sexually graphic… XD I mean, my Russiamerica one was M-rated, but it wasn't too horribly graphic. Hah, this one…has…detail... XD

Oh, and it's UKUS! :D I personally like both USUK and UKUS, but Iggy is just so much fun to work with. :) He _is_ the Erotic Ambassador after all. ;D

So, I hope you like it! :D Please review!

x-x-x-x-x

"S'up, England?"

For a moment, England just stood there at his door, glaring at the obnoxious American who had a huge smile plastered on his face. Slitting his eyes, England violently slammed the door in his stupid face. Damn America! What gave him the idea that he could just show up at his house whenever he wanted! The least he could have done was call him to let him know he was coming! He still probably wouldn't have let him in even then, but this—this was just annoying.

"Hey, England!" America called through the door, knocking on it with loud thumps. "Aw, c'mon, lemme in! Don't leave me hanging, man!"

"Why didn't you at least warn me that I was going to have to put up with your presence?" England called back through the door, crossing his arms angrily. "I know I taught you proper etiquette when you were younger, damn git!"

He could hear America's laughter through the door, only raising his anger further. "Ha, yeah, cuz slamming the door in my face and calling me names—yup, that's etiquette right there! Good job, I applaud you!"

England glared at the door, feeling a little stung. He supposed America did have a point—not that he would ever let America know this though. So, very unwillingly, England opened the door a tad, a glare still on his face. "What?" he spat through the small opening.

America was still smiling that stupid smile of his, seeming happy that England was finally listening to him. "So, dude, I think it would be, like, totally freakin' awesome if we—"

England opened the door far enough to hit America hard in the shoulder. "Stop slaughtering the English language, and you'll perhaps have a greater chance of me actually listen to you prattle on."

"Douche," America argued, but then continued on with what he had been saying previously. "Well, I was thinking that I could show you some of my scary movies! I mean, everyone keeps on calling me a wuss for being scared, but then they never take time to watch any of my movies! Maybe if they actually watched them, they'd realize how freakin' terrifying they are!"

A dubious stare was directed at the American. "Have you ever watched any of _their_ horror films?" England asked, cocking his head to the side. "You can't expect them to watch yours when you don't watch theirs."

America had a dumbfounded look on his face from this suggestion. "_Dude_!" he cried. "Hasn't everyone watched my movies? I mean, they're American, and American is synonymous with _awesome_! Everyone knows everything about me, cuz I'm _me_!" He began laughing at this completely obvious 'fact,' only earning a fierier glare from England.

"I refuse to watch your rubbish," England said stubbornly. "Instead, I think you should watch one of mine. Perhaps then your movies will actually gain some substance."

America didn't look convinced. "But your movies probably suck as much as your food!" he whined, drooping his shoulders in a pout. "I mean, nothing scary ever happens in England…"

"Oh really?" England asked in a dropped voice. America perked up a little, obviously interested. "Nothing happens in England? What about Jack the Ripper? What about the constant hauntings always reported? Voices, poltergeists, even demonic possessions. So many unexplained phenomena… yet 'nothing' happens?"

America now had a frightful look on his face, looking rather terrified. "D-dude," he said, still trying to sound tough. "Th-that doesn't sound freaky a-at all! Heh heh, I mean, that, that's nothing compared to _my_ awesome movies!"

England smirked at his faux-bravery. "Well, if it's nothing compared to your films, then you should have no trouble watching mine." His smirk widened as he watched America realize just how deep a hole he had dug himself in to.

"Heh, y-you're right about that!" America proclaimed, his voice slightly cracking. "Well, let's get it over wi—I, I mean…" America couldn't seem to come up with a witty comeback now, so he just shuffled in through the door, keeping his eyes to the floor. England couldn't help but chuckle—he always acted so brave and strong, but in all reality, America was still in many ways a child. Though, as England watched him walk down the hall, he was forced to realize how he was very much no longer a child in just as many ways. How he had grown taller than him, how his broad shoulders were set, how, even though he was obviously scared about the movie, he walked with a certain confidence. The way he walked was one of strength and determination…

And, sending a sudden blush to his face, the way he walked also made his ass look quite nice.

Not, of course, that he made it a habit to look at his ass. That would just be ludicrous. Just as ludicrous as him constantly having day dreams of him—_vivid_ day dreams at that. No, he didn't fantasize about him and America kissing. He _especially_ didn't think of having sex with him. Didn't think of his fingers being engulfed by him, his prick being sucked off by his warm, needy mouth…

Giving himself a light slap to the face, he got his mind out of the gutter. No, he could save those for later when America had left his house.

Oh God.

With a huff, he slapped himself again, harder this time. What was wrong with his head today? Was it because America was in his house? Why couldn't his head stop thinking of trying to taking advantage of the American?

"England, you coming?" America called from the other room. England shook his head, trying to clear it out of his inappropriate thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he began walking to the living room to start up the movie. Hopefully that would be able to help clear his mind of such odd—yet extremely tempting—thoughts.

x-x-x-x-x

But he was wrong. Oh, was he ever wrong. The movie had been on for barely fifteen minutes, and America was already huddled next to him on the couch, clutching on to his arm as if he let go, he'd be dragged away by monsters. Then with a small laugh, England realized that that was probably the exact reason for him gripping on to him so tight. Silly American.

"D-d-dude, how c-can you be l-laughing?" America asked, not daring to take his eyes off the screen. "Your movies are freakin' messed up, man!"

England harrumphed at this, glaring at the frightened American. "All because your movies lack plot doesn't mean—"

Something must have happened in the movie while he wasn't looking, because next thing he knew, America screamed and jumped into his lap, clutching at him desperately. "OH GOD!" America screeched, shaking and quivering on England. "Holy crap, that was the scariest thing ever, they just came out of nowhere with a knife! Run! AAH! RUN!"

Exasperated beyond all belief, England reached for the remote to turn off the damn movie. However, he was finding this extremely difficult with America clinging to him like a madman. "Get off, damn idiot!" England yelled, trying to push him away. However, the more he tried to push him away, the tighter America held on to him, continuing to scream desperately in his ear. Roughly, England grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back. America gave a sad little yelp and went absolutely still. Relieved, England was finally able to reach the remote and pressed the stop button. "What the bloody hell, America!" he yelled, still holding him by the hair. America's eyes were scrunched shut, a little whimper escaping him. This only proved to frustrate England more—the movie was off, and he was _still_ cowering! "You need to grow up and stop being so afraid of everything! That movie wasn't even frightening! Yet you're acting like a small child! There wasn't even any blood, all there was was a knife, and that sent you screaming! I mean—"

"E-England," America whimpered, weakly grabbing at England's hand. "C-can you stop that? Please?"

"Don't interrupt me!" England hissed, still rather pissed off at his erratic behavior. He gave America's hair another tug, and was surprised to have a moan escape America's throat. A very… _sexy_ moan. England growled at the thought and just continued to glare at the American. "You need to stop being scared of such things. If you want to actually be taken seriously—"

"Aah, really England," America groaned, tugging harder at England's hand. "Dude, _stop_!"

"_Why_?" England barked, irritated with him. Why couldn't he just learn to shut up?

"B-because," America stammered, opening his eyes just enough for England to see those beautiful—er, those _average_ eyes, "you're holding Nantucket… it's… ah, it's my…"

Suddenly, it all clicked in England's mind. Holding on to America's hair, including Nantucket. Moaning, whining. Nantucket was his erogenous area. Normally, England would have been absolutely horrified and would have let go of him immediately. But something was seriously wrong with his head today. Not even thinking about consequences, he released all of his hair besides Nantucket, wrapping it around his finger. "Tell me," he purred, smirking at America's tensed face, "_what_ is this?"

America was really beginning to look panicked. "Uh, i-it's," he murmured, twitching slightly as England twirled his hair around his finger. "Hah, uh, it's… ugh, m-my erogeno—_ah!" _His sentence was cut off as England gave it another tug. America's eyes clamped shut, his face turning a nice shade of pink.

England was actually scaring himself a little—he really wanted to just tear off all of America's clothing and do him right there. His face was gorgeous, oh, and those _noises_. But he couldn't do that—he'd definitely get in trouble for rape. So, somehow, he was going to have to make America want this. How to do that though, England was unsure about.

"Does that feel good?" England asked airily, leaning in slightly as he twirled Nantucket between his fingers. America was getting better at keeping his noise level down, but his body kept giving him away as he twitched or his back arched. America squeezing his legs together was also another good giveaway of what else his body was doing.

America cracked an eye open slightly to peer at England. "Screw you," America panted, barely even trying to remove England's hand by now. It looked like his limbs were slowly becoming like jelly from his touch. Which seemed to only turn England on even further.

Without really thinking about it, England laid a hand on America's chest as he pushed him back. Not only had his limbs become weak, but his whole body didn't seem to have any strength left as he simply fell over with barely any struggle. His smirk only widened as he looked down at the American. "You're not fighting back," England sang, positioning himself so he was hovering over him, his finger still having a hold on Nantucket.

America glared up at him. His blue eyes weren't quite angry, but they weren't happy either. They were something else… Confused? "It's kinda hard ta fight back," he panted between breaths, "when you're bein' jerked off."

England looked down at him for a few moments, letting thoughts slowly go through his head. Knowing that it could really ruin his plans, England released Nantucket, now placing his hand on the couch above America's shoulder. "Will you fight back now?"

A more confused look overcame America's face as if he didn't quite trust him. Though, as England finally began to think about it, he really didn't blame him—he had just come out of nowhere and started to molest him. Really, the more he thought about it, the more guilt started to well up in him. With a little groan, England began to back away, feeling disgusted with himself. A gentleman would never have done anything like this.

"W-wait." A little jolt went through England as he felt America grab onto his sleeve. Cautiously, England turned his head to look at him. "Don't go," America said quietly, sending another jolt down England's back. "I mean… you really freaked me out. I wasn't expecting any of that. But… well… to be honest…" America paused, scratching his head awkwardly. "Um… I've… kind of liked you for the past century or so. So… I was just… surprised is all." England kept staring at him, not sure if he wanted to believe what America was saying—it sounded too good to be true.

"Really?" England asked.

America gave a shy little smile. "Yeah. Really."

Still a little disturbed with himself, England managed to smile. So, at least he knew his feelings weren't only one-sided. "I'm sorry I lost it," he said sincerely. "I'm not sure what I was thinking. Er, well, okay, I _did_ know what I was thinking. And it was wrong. I'm sorry."

With what looked like some effort, America sat back up, his face still rather flushed. "It's okay," he said, looking down at the floor. The two remained silent for a while, the situation still rather awkward. Finally, America broke it, his words making England nearly faint: "Can we… keep going?"

"K-keep going?" England asked dumbfounded. America simply nodded in reply, his face reddening even more. Just a few minutes ago, America had been telling him to stop. Now he wanted more? Really, the American didn't make sense to him half the time.

But how could he ever say no to such a request?

"Bedroom," England said, pointing in the general direction it was located. "Let's do it in there."

America clumsily stood up, still wobbly from the previous encounter. England stood up along with him to make sure he didn't trip or just fall over from weak knees. He blushed as he realized he had caused that—he had made the great and powerful America weak kneed like that.

England seemed to almost go on autopilot, because he suddenly realized that he and America were standing in front of his bed. How had they gotten there so fast? How had he just blanked out like that? However, he lightly shook his head to bring him back to what was at hand. America was looking at him expectantly, almost as if he was waiting for some sort of cue. A sudden thought occurred to him. Before even thinking it out, England blurted, "America, are you a virgin?"

Blood rushed up to America's face, his eyes flicking to and fro. "Er," he said, not making eye contact. "Well. Um. I mean… I've kissed before, but…" In shame, America sadly looked down. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I am."

_Holy shit_. "Oh," England said, blushing himself. America was a virgin. He was going to take his virginity. At first, the thought made him nervous, but thought of _him_ being the one to take his virginity made him suddenly excited. He was about to advance when America asked, "Um… are _you_ a virgin?"

It was England's turn to stumble over his words. "Um… Well, it depends on… you see… Er… no. Not a virgin."

America didn't look exactly hurt… just embarrassed. Which wasn't much better. England quickly grabbed him by the shoulders, squeezing them slightly. "No, it's fine," he said, rubbing his thumbs against his shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin." _Especially since that means you're going to be so tight_, he thought greedily to himself. "I'll make your first time your best time."

America tilted his head to the side slightly, still blushing. "It's not that," he said quietly. "Not nervous or anything. Just… just jealous I guess."

England cocked his head to the side. "Jealous?" he repeated, confused. "Jealous about what?"

"Well… who else have you done?"

England once again stammered, a little surprised about the question. "Um… well…" He began, lowering his eyes to the floor. "During my pirating days… Spain mostly… also any other countries that got in the way… France and I did it once when I was drunk. _Very_ drunk…." He looked up to see America's saddened face. "But none of that matters now. I'm much different from back then. I haven't been in bed with anyone for…" He paused to think, and felt a slight depression come over him. "Well… it's been a while. A long while." England wanted to slap himself for his stupidity—why'd he have to start up this conversation? This was _not_ what you were supposed to be talking about before having sex with someone. God, he was such a damn mood killer.

Another horribly awkward pause passed between them, and England was convinced that he had completely ruined everything. He was about to just give up when he felt a hand rest beneath his chin and lightly tilt his head up. His green eyes quickly found America's cerulean ones, America giving one of his warm smiles. "It's fine," he said. "I'm just glad… glad that you want to do it with me too."

England stared at him for a moment, a little awed by how forgiving America was. With a sigh, he returned the smile. "I'm going to shut up, okay?" England said, inching slightly closer. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he kept on saying all of these stupid things. Taking a little calming breath, England raised himself up on his toes for extra height as he lightly pressed his lips to America's.

The kiss was slow and innocent at first, the two getting used to the contact. England's lips tingled at the sensation, sending little chills through his body. He carefully placed a hand on the side of America's face, brushing some stray hair away. America seemed a little uncertain about what to do, but laid his hands on England's waist, leaning down slightly so England didn't have to strain with his height so much. After a while, England brushed his tongue along America's bottom lip. America paused for a second, making England nervous—was he going too fast for him? However, America slowly opened his mouth, granting him entrance. England took the opportunity immediately as he let his tongue explore the other's mouth. America tried to do the same thing with his tongue, carefully poking around England's. Somehow, he seemed to be less confident when he came to kissing. Not that England minded though—he could teach him to be confident with it in time.

From past experiences, England knew that he could often be found with wandering hands while kissing. Not even paying attention to anything but the pleasure he was feeling, he felt America give a little gasp. England broke out of his daze as he realized his hand had just happened to slip his fingers down the front of America's pants. He quickly withdrew them, giving America an apologetic look. America stood there for a moment, looking like he was also having a difficult time sorting through his thoughts. Then, once again surprising England, he quickly began stripping. "W-w-what are you…?" England tried to say, but failed as his voice caught upon watching more and more of America's finely tanned skin become exposed.

"What does it look like?" America asked, for once giving a small smirk as he began to undo his buckle. "You should work on your clothes too." Certain that he had just made a new world record for how fast a person could divest their self of clothing, America plopped himself on the bed that England had somehow forgotten was there the whole time. "Make me yours."

England stood there for probably only a second, but it felt like an eternity. America wanted him. However, even in these kinds of situations, England had to be stubborn. "I'll keep clothes for now," he said with a devious smirk as he pushed America flat against the bed below him. America seemed to pout slightly now that he was the only one naked. However, this pouting quickly stopped as England's fingers found his length. He twitched under the touch as his breath caught in his throat, his eyes snapping shut. England's smile widened—his face was so cute when he was like this. However, he only let his fingers ghost over him, barely even touching him. America gave a little whine, making both England's smirk and cock grow bigger. "Something wrong?" he taunted against his ear, feeling America twitch below him.

"D-don't tease like that," he whimpered, holding England by the shoulder blades. "Just touch me… don't tease."

This only caused England to smirk darkly. "Tease?" he drawled, ever slowly lowering himself. America looked at him with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, but closed his eyes as England's tongue found the skin just below his navel. America's hips bucked upward as he gave a moan, making England shove his hips back down against the bed. He slowly went lower, but did everything to avoid what he knew America desperately wanted. He loved hearing America give those sad little pants and moans and whines.

"Haa, E-England," America moaned, once again trying to move his hips. "P-please! Gaah, j-just, stop the teasing. J-just…" America's voice trailed off, giving in to another moan.

England looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded. Rubbing his thumb against the inside of America's thigh, England smirked at him and his desperation. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, letting his hand ever so slightly slip upward.

"Hnn… I… I want…" America panted, turning his head to the side. "Please… please suck me. Please, please!"

England's eyes widened slightly, surprised to hear America begging him like that. He hadn't been expecting him to actually start begging and pleading like that—that was completely unlike him. But he smiled, letting out a laugh, knowing that his breath running across America's cock would make the other shiver violently. He couldn't turn him down when his begging was so cute.

"As you wish," he said as he slid his lips over his length. America let out a loud gasp, England barely able to keep his hips down with how hard he thrust them up. He slid his mouth down over it as far as he comfortable could, letting his tongue swirl around his shaft, feeling it pulse in his mouth.

"Haah!" America cried, pressing a palm against his forehead as the other gripped the sheets desperately. "Aah, oh G-god, aah…" England, now finally used to America's length and size in his mouth, began to bob his head up and down, continuing to swirl his tongue around, paying special attention to the sensitive head. The more he moved, the louder and more America gasped. "Aaah! Ohh, E-England, oh God! Haah, hnn…" The sounds he was making were pushing England towards the edge of his sanity. The way he moaned his name, the way he whimpered if he hit a particularly sensitive spot. England had to hold back moans of his own as his prick grew larger, held back uncomfortable by his now too tight pants.

Even though he was about to go insane, he wanted to hear more. He wanted to hear the man _scream_. He took a hand from America's hips and began to fondle his sac. America's back arched with another gasp, quickly followed by more moans and cries. "H-haaah, oh, Ennglaaand, th-tha—aaaah!" England bobbed his head faster, sucked harder, wanting desperately for the other to reach his limit, for him to come.

"G-gaah, E-Eng-gland! I… I'm g-gonna—!" His sentence was cut off though as England finally heard the scream he had wanted, sending more blood down to his groin. The pleasure of it made him moan, sending vibrations up and down America's cock. Then, without another second's notice, America yelled out again as he came in England's mouth. Not that he minded of course. It only took him a second or two to get over the initial want to choke, but then he quickly swallowed, wiping his lips of the excess. He looked down at America, sending a smirk across his face. The great country was panting and shivering, his eyes glazed over from his powerful orgasm. England leaned over him as he nibbled on his ear. "Feel good?" he asked huskily, trailing his hands over his chest.

America peered at him through half-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly open in heavy breaths. "It. Felt. _Awesome_," he answered between pants, giving a weak little smile. England smiled back at him, brushing hair away from his sweaty face. He was glad to hear that America was happy—it always made these sort of things work better. He then returned his attention to his ear, trailing kissed from his earlobe down to his shoulder. America gave cute little whimpers, tilting his head upward, giving more access to his throat. England gladly took that access, lightly dragging his teeth up and down his soft skin. He quickly lost himself as he kissed, licked, sucked and even occasionally bit America's skin, loving all the little sounds and movements he made. He lost himself so much that he didn't notice much of what America was doing. That was, until, America's hand found the bulge in his pants.

England gave a little gasp of surprise, opening his eyes to look down at the American. "What are you…?" His words trailed off as America began rubbing his palm against his erection, making England's eyes flutter shut, giving a moan of his own.

"I shouldn't be the only one feeling good," America said, continuing to rub his palm in circles. "I want to make you feel good too."

England gave a little chuckle, and would have thanked him for his thoughtfulness—he couldn't do this though, seeing as he throat was cut off again with another moan of pleasure. He returned to kissing America's throat, the other continuing to rub against him. After a while, America switched from rubbing with his palm to kneading with his fingers. Not long after changing tactics, England was reduced to only moaning against America's throat, barely able to focus on anything but all the wonderful things America was doing to him. "Haaa, A-Americaah… J-just like that, aah, f-feels so damn good."

It took a while for England to suddenly realize he was getting very close to his limit. He didn't want to come yet, but with what America was doing to him, it wasn't going to take much longer. "Aah, America, s-stop. Haah, s-stop, I d-don't want…" He couldn't finish his sentence as another moan escaped him, making him grit his teeth. God, he was so close, so tantalizingly close! Then, finally seeming to have heard him, America unwillingly took his hand away. England had to plop down on the bed next to America as he caught his breath. The man's hands were so talented; England had no idea.

"You okay?" America asked, shifting to lie on his side facing England. "Did I hurt you?"

Lightly, England patted his head, cracking his eyes open. "Hmm… no, no you didn't. I just didn't… didn't want to come yet." They sat there for a few minutes more until England felt his heart rate return to normal. He gave America a little smirk as he sat back up. "Lay on your back, love. We're about to start the main event."

He was sure America had a curious look on his face as he turned to his bed stand and opened one of the drawers. It took him a second to locate what he was looking for, but smiled victoriously upon finding it. He turned back to America with lube in hand. America's eyes widened slightly, but surprised England by laughing. "W-what?" he asked with a scowl. What was funny about this?

"Ha ha, nothing... Just wasn't expecting you to keep lube next to your bed is all, Mr. Erotic Ambassador."

England wasn't all too fond of the nickname, but he just snickered at him. "I'm always prepared is all, stupid git."

America just smirked at him, but did as he had been told as he lied on his back. England gently spread his legs wider, making America blush slightly. England just took the sight of him in as if he was a meal prepared especially for him. He was about to open the bottle of lube when America said, "Um, England… um, can… can you undress too?" England was taken aback slightly, not expecting the question. "I… I want to see you too."

It was England's turn to blush. Well, it did make sense. Of course America would also like to see him naked, seeing as this was sex and all. He gave a silent nod as he quickly removed his clothing, reveling in the feeling of his restraining pants and boxers being removed. He sat there for a moment, letting America take in the sight of him. But now he was feeling a little self-conscious. America had perfectly tanned skin, a strong build and long, beautiful limbs. England, however, was shorter, much paler, skinny and almost weak looking. He felt like nothing compared to America and his nigh on perfect physique. But as America looked at him, he felt blood rise up in his cheeks—why was he looking at him like he looked at those hamburgers of his?

"Wow," America whispered, his eyes trailing up and down his limber body. "You. You're… you're freakin' _gorgeous_, England…"

Gorgeous? Ugly, stupid, rude, annoying, hypocritical—all those words at some point had been used to describe him. But never before had he been called gorgeous. He smiled and he leaned over to kiss America on the lips. "And you are too kind, love."

England sat back up, opening the bottle of lube. "I'm going to warn you," he said, trying to get the lubricant warm, "this is going to hurt. I'll be as gentle as I can, but it does take some getting used to." He looked up, hoping he didn't look too nervous. He didn't want to scare America off, but he didn't want to lie to him either. "That being said… do you want to go on? If you don't want to, I understand."

America looked the tiniest bit nervous, but he just gave his trademark smile. "It's fine," he said. "I can take it. Cuz I'm a hero!"

England gave a little chuckle, making sure that his fingers were evenly coated. "Alright then," he said, putting a finger at his entrance. America twitched slightly, giving a slight gasp at the touch. However, after a moment, he relaxed again, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. England circled his entrance to get a fair amount of lubrication spread to make it easier on America. Then, slowly, he began to slip his finger inside of him.

"Gaah!" America yelped, his back arching. "Aah, ow, ow, _ow_!"

England stretched his arm as he leaned over to place a few comforting kisses on America's cheek. "Shh, love, I'm sorry," he cooed, sending his finger in deeper until he was up to his knuckle. "It's okay, I know it hurts, just stay calm, love."

America's eyes were squeezed shut, but he gave a short nod. "K-kay…" he choked, trying to keep his breathing level. England gently began to thrust his finger in and out, trying to get him used to the feeling of something inside of him. For a while, America just staid frighteningly quiet, his eyes tightly closed. But after a minute or two, his face relaxed and he actually opened his eyes. "Feels… weird," he said quietly.

"That it does," England answered, brushing stray hair from America's face. "As I said before, it takes some getting used to." He continued to thrust the finger, America now giving some noises that hopefully meant that it didn't hurt that much anymore. "Is it okay if I add another finger?" England asked.

A little worry came over America's face, but he just nodded. "Y-yeah. Go ahead."

England laid another kiss on America's forehead. "I'll be gentle, love. Don't worry." Carefully, he pushed in a second finger, making America hiss in pain as he grabbed on to England's shoulder blades. A few whimpers escaped him, England comforting him all he could. Once he was in knuckle deep, he paused, once again letting him adjust. He felt slight pain as America dug his nails in his back, but he ignored it—they might as well share pain; it was only fair.

Slowly, he began thrusting his fingers, going in and out at different angles. He knew that if he found America's sweet spot, everything would become much easier for the younger country. His fingers tried scissoring inside of him to help stretch him faster, but it was a difficult task with how tight America was inside. He honestly thought his fingers were going to lose circulation inside of him with how tight those muscles were. That, and America began yelling curses upon him trying this, so he stopped the scissoring. "Sorry, love," he quickly apologized, continuing to thrust at different angles.

"Don't ever fucking try that again!" he hissed, digging his nails farther into his skin. "God, that hur—AH!" His whole body tensed as England finally succeeded in finding his prostate. England smirked as he looked down at America's wide eyes, his mouth agape in pleasure.

"Can I do that again?" he asked smugly, stopping his thrusting for a moment. However, for once, America whined as he stopped.

"Yes!" he cried, his eyes snapping shut. "Please, please do it aga—AAH!" He cried out again as England found his prostate, his hips bucking up violently. He continued to thrust his fingers, America crying out every time England hit his sweet spot. Without any warning, England slipped in a third finger, making America hiss in pain. He looked like he was about to start yelling at him for not telling him until he found his prostate again, letting America adjust while he just rubbed his fingers against the nerve cluster.

"Aaaah! Oh fuck, oh holy shit, gaaah, England!" America yelled as he writhed beneath England under his touch. "Oh fucking hell, I—aaah!"

England smirked down at him, now thrusting his three fingers. "Wow, you have such a foul mouth when you're being fucked," England purred, rubbing his thumb against one of America's nipples. "You're like a little whore, aren't you?"

America didn't look pleased at being called a whore, but he couldn't say anything to defend himself as England continued to toy with his prostate. By now, he was all but screaming as drool trailed down from his mouth. Slowly, England removed his fingers, watching America as he began to whimper pathetically. "N-n-no," he muttered weakly. "Haah, no, d-don't stop…"

Quickly and haphazardly, England lubed up his prick. "Oh, believe me," he purred, "I will not stop, even if you asked me to." America gasped slightly as England lined up his prick with his entrance. "Are you ready?" he asked. Oh, how he wanted in him. He wanted in him so desperately, wanted that warmth, that tightness.

America nodded. "Get in me. Now."

He didn't have to ask him twice. Painfully slow, England eased himself into America. He let out a moan as America's muscles squeezed around him, as his warmth engulfed him. America dug his nails so far in to his back, England was sure he must be bleeding by now. But he didn't care—this felt so damn good.

Once he was completely sheathed in America, he paused, already in need of oxygen. America clutched on to him desperately, his eyes tightly closed, his mouth a thin line. England panted, trying to keep himself from coming just at the feeling of America so tight around him. God, this felt so unbelievably amazing. "Are you okay?" England huffed, trying to keep his breath even. "Does it hurt?"

"I-it hurts," America said, his voice scratchy and strained. "Y-you're huge… hah, I didn't kn-know I could stretch… that much…"

England placed another kiss on his forehead, rubbing a thumb against his cheek. "The human body…never ceases…to amaze me." They sat there for a while longer, America slowly becoming more relaxed. Finally, he was able to open his eyes and to take his nails out of England's skin. "Are you ready?" England asked. "Can I move?"

America took in a few more deep breaths, occasionally closing his eyes as he adjusted. Finally he nodded. "Yeah. Move."

Very slowly, England began to thrust in and out, trying to be gentle—even though he just wanted to start mercilessly pounding into him. America gave little whimpers at first, turning his head away as he tried to keep his sounds muffled. However, after some changing of angles, England was again able to find America's prostate. Immediately, America's sounds went from painful to lustful. He gripped England close to him, his hips bucking into his as he moaned and cried out. England gave moans of his own as America's muscles constantly twitched around him from pleasure, the sounds escaping America only pushing him on further. England roughly gripped America's hair as he pulled him into a kiss. They moaned and yelled into each other's mouths as their tongues viciously danced around each other. America was so lost in pleasure that he dragged his nails across England's back, definitely leaving scratches in his flesh. But England didn't care—the pleasure coursing through him greatly outweighed the pain as he quickened the pace of his hips, hitting America's prostate over and over again.

"Aaaah, Eng, Englaaand, gaah," America moaned pathetically, saliva trailing down carelessly from the corner of his mouth. All he could do now was cry out England's name and other wanton noises, his legs hooked around England's hips, trying to get him even deeper inside of him. Never before had England seen the man look more helpless, more desperate. And never before had he looked so beautiful.

"Hah, A-America," England moaned against the crook of his neck. "Aaah, oh God, America, you feel so good. So damn tight…"

England was so dangerously close to coming—and there was no way he was going to come before a virgin did. He wrapped a hand around America's cock and began pumping it furiously. America cried out in pleasure, his back arching as he began to shake. He was close too. "Aaah! E-England," America cried, gripping desperately at England's shoulders. "Ha-aaah, I, I'm g-gonna c-co—aaah!"

"I know!" England yelled into his shoulder, all of his nerve endings feeling like they were on fire as he neared his climax. "M-me t—haaah!"

America came first, coming all over both of their stomachs. After two or three more thrusts, England came hard inside of America, letting out a little cry of pleasure from his release. The two laid there for what must have been only a minute, but it felt like hours as they listened to each other's labored breaths and post-orgasmic noises. Finally, England pulled out of America with a little sigh, completely exhausted. America muttered something, but England couldn't understand him. "Hah… what?" England gasped, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"I… got your…bed dirty," America repeated weakly, pointing out all the semen that had poured out of him upon coming. "S-sorry…"

England looked down at the mess, a little amused that America was apologizing for it. He wiped up some of it with his finger, looking at it as if he was harshly scrutinizing it. Then, with a devious smirk, he licked it off his finger, making sure to make his gulp very audible as he swallowed. America's face was absolutely priceless. "It's no problem," he said, wrapping an arm around the other's waist. "We can clean it later."

America continued to stare at him like he had just eaten a live baby with a side of fish and chips. "Dude," he said, still lightly panting. "You're as messed up as your movies. Seriously."

England let out a laugh at this, ruffling the other's hair. "You silly fool," he said affectionately. "Don't tell me you're seriously still scared by that."

America didn't say anything, which only made England concerned. "You _are_ still scared by that?"

"Jerk!" America exclaimed as jumped out of the bed—which didn't work too well, seeing as his legs weren't working quite right. As soon as he stood up, he tumbled right back down to the bed. England quickly grabbed him around the waist, pulling him closer.

"Oh, calm down," he said, gently petting his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? The movie was _utterly _terrifying." Not really, but he didn't want to make America any more upset.

"You bet it was!" America yipped, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Freakin' terrifying!"

England smiled at his childishness. "Yes, yes," he said, snuggling closer to him. "But, if nothing else, at least it let this happen."

America paused, England listening to his breathing, his heartbeat. They were all such beautiful sounds to his ears—the sounds of America. Finally, America turned to his other side as he wrapped his arms around England. "Yeah… I guess the movie was at least good for something."

England smiled as he nestled in closer to his American. "I love you," he said, letting his tired eyes close.

America nuzzled his head against England's, letting out a little content sigh. "I love you too." Within the next few minutes, the two fell asleep in each other's arms.

It was too bad that, with all that had happened that night, England had forgotten that his Prime Minister was due for a visit with him in the morning. If nothing else, it was sure prove to be an unique icebreaker.

x-x-x-x-x

So… first sex scene—DONE! So, tell me if I did a good job, or if I just made the worst sex scene you've ever read in your life… either way, please review! :D


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